The Game f JT

Drop Ya Thangs

339 3 часа назад

Текст песни The Game f JT - Drop Ya Thangs

The Game f JT - Drop Ya Thangs слова песни

[Chorus]Drop ya thangs and just boxNigga just drop ya thangs and just boxNigga just drop ya thangs and just boxNigga just drop ya thangs and just box[Verse One: JT]Yo, I hit the party in my t-shirt and tennis shoesThey all watchin in they Hot Boys and church suitsActin tough in the club ain`t gon` get you homeGettin drunk off of Patron just gon` get you domedStill steppin on my shoes, boy this nigga happyThis nigga thank he Lil` Jon and his partner ScrappyGoin dumb with his bitch so he don`t like meThis ain`t the South boy, we ain`t crunk we go hyphyYou gotta know the rules, player let it goYou get to trippin my nigga you gotta hit the do`Rollin up this eight-nine gram I`m tryin to make a planTuggin on yo` main bitch hand, tryin to make a friendThis time for escapade only make the tec a-sprayI`m in the parkin lot, standin by the EscaladeYou got a problem we ain`t fightin like a manOne-on-one with the Fig`, get yo` face in the sand, nigga[Chorus][Hook: JT]Nigga you a bitch wit`cho gun, snitch wit`cho gunStill get found in a ditch wit`cho gunBitch wit`cho gun, snitch wit`cho gunStill get found in a ditch wit`cho gun[Verse Two: JT]Yo, Fig` never play with them guns, no you hear meFig` ain`t shot nuttin up but kill spiritsFig` ain`t the one to be, scared of the lossesOne-on-one fightin for stripes with right crossesUppercuts and heatbutts to get a head rushBitch niggaz rather kick back, and let they lead bustI been a pitbull since Fila {?} and Kenny KenUsed to chuck `em by the corner sto` whoever winThem was my O.G.`s, and I was just a B.G.Whoever want to see me, Figgaro can {?}But now we got them old niggaz that bust with they tommyBut caught without they tommy get rushed like salamiCause everybody tired of them R.I.P.`sWe `bout to bring this fightin back mayne to all our streetsNow, cowards wanna pack and, killers wanna cruise andReal niggaz stand alone mayne and do what we doI wanna bust you but homey let me ask youWhy you wanna play with that gun, and make me blast youMoms all cryin and shit, she gotta ask you{?} better to save on caskets you dumb nigga[Chorus] + [Hook][Verse Three: JT]Oh boy! Old friends like to make up and get caviHell nah, she in the club wit`cho baby daddyShe got the coat on he bought you for yo` birthday (oh no!)You kickin back, I`m `bout to clown him in the worst way (bitch)Team on preem` like he hangin out with `Pac brotherAnd you a boss for not cuttin him with the boxcutterAnd it was cool `til this chick really got to trippinSpittin drink in yo` face, boy she popped up pimpin (what?)Zoked out like, fat boy you can`t breatheBounce back and grab that trick by her fuckin weaveBring her to the flo`, teach her `bout the Get LowShe gon` really know, mob her on the danceflo`[Chorus] + [Hook][JT]Yeah I gotta acknowledge them fo` carloads of HP niggazthat came to Fillmoe for y`all one-on-ones mayne, and y`all got it mayneNiggaz put the guns down and after that nigga it was real bigThey get stripes for that, nigga, special shoutout niggato them three young Sunnydale niggazNigga that was surrounded by ten Fillmoe niggaz mayneAnd all y`all wanted was one-on-ones and y`all got it niggaStripes for that![Chorus] + [Hook]

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